Dreams. Earlier this week I dreamt that I’d have 5 campers in my cabin. I woke up and had 5 campers in my cabin. The next evening I dreamt that an ex-counsellor got a job at footlocker. I woke up and found out that an ex-counsellor got a job at footlocker. Last night, I dreamt that my Mum and Dad flew all the way over to New York to see me. I woke up and I’m still waiting. Bastards.
Books. This week I have had my snozz deeply tucked in books. I bolted down Pride and Prej and am now onto Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Foer. All I can say is that when a book has your mind wallowing in a literary oasis after the first paragraph, you know you’re onto a winner.
Writing. Since I have been reading more, I have been writing less in my blog, but wanting to write more in general. Confusing, I know, but I have quite decided to write my own novel also. My co-counsellor Emma is currently writing a fantasy novel and is achieving 3,000 words a day. Imagine me hauling that kind of poetic prowess on my blog everyday? Bloody hell. But anywho, I’ve come up with a concept and I just have to, er, write it now. Easy peasy apple dapple. Right?
Camp. As I mentioned before, I only have 5 kids this session and it’s an absolute doddle in comparison to previous times. My girls and I have taken to have a pre-lights-out rave every evening that has ended in a variety of different ways: a music video, a catwalk, an aerobics work out and a rap. Brilliant.
Dating. The kids this session are very taken with the idea that we’re all dating each other. I am currently married to 1 whilst dating 3 of my co-counsellors on the side. One of my campers unfortunately informed me that my husband wants a divorce, which after watching him stomp up and down the camp catwalk in my clothes, a wig and a gazebo load of make up this evening, I am quite glad.
Disney. Disney films are the most excellent things in the world. They are eye drugs for insomniac tykes.
Girls Circle. Girls circle is an activity in which we talk to the older girls about all those ‘important’ topics in life. However, the other day we cast aside our activities and just sad down and had a good old chat. I shall end on the quotes from that one-hour as it truly was, one of the most hilarious hours of my life.
Kids say the funniest things- Girls circle edition
After talking about fatty foods
Girl: I have trans fats! On my thighs.
When discussing mental health
Girl: I poked my nephew in his soft spot. That’s supposed to be healthy for babies.
Girl: I have fat around my brain and that’s why I don’t think good.
Girl: Why does sweat taste so good?
Emma: Judy Garland died from a drug overdose
Girl (exclaiming): WHAT! My Mom told me that she was robbed!
Girl: My Mom rode her bike into a car.
Emma: Was it moving?!
Girl: No, but it moved when she hit it.
Girl: My Uncle calls your butt a turd cutter.
Kid ask the funniest things- Girls circle edition
Girl: This is kind of a personal question but where do your teeth go when you’re kissing?
Girl: How did it feel to be in prison, Emma?
Emma: I’ve never been to prison.
Girl: I was watching this movie and the boyfriend and girlfriend were biting each other’s eyebrows. Why were they doing that?
Chelsea: Erm…
Bites to date
I don't even want to talk about this any more. I'm way above 50 and my body is a constant chasm of itching. I HATE YOU BUGS. YOU ARE THE BANE OF MY LIFE!
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Friday, 30 July 2010
Monday 26th July 2010
Pulling my socks up, I run outside into the sun. Before me stands two older girls, both decked out in yellow staff t-shirts playing Frisbee with a teenage girl.
‘You coming to play?’ calls one of the girls. She has strawberry blonde hair, cheeks peppered with freckles and the name of Ally. I nod enthusiastically and sprint over, letting the dew from the grass seep into my extra fast running sneakers.
The game begins and as I sling the Frisbee into the air, I watch it slice through the blue, cutting pizza slices in the air, before trundling on the floor like the metre stick we once used to measure the field at school. Yet, before long, my excitement starts to wane and I’m about to return to my cabin when I see it.
My hearts beats wildly and I cast about, anticipating everyone else’s shock as they notice it too. Yet, they carry on, oblivious to the malevolent stare that surveys them from the top branches.
‘Ooof! What was that?’ cackles the other counsellor as the Frisbee ricochets off the tree and I simply can’t take it anymore.
‘You’ve got to hide!’ I yell. ‘It can see you, it’s coming closer!’
The girl closest to me, Chelsea, regards me with a smile and replies ‘and what would that be, missus?’ I know she’s just playing with me now but we’ve no time to lose. I can’t believe it’s found me again.
‘The monster! It’s coming for us and it’s in that tree there,’ I say, pointing. ‘You need to hide now!’
The counsellor’s exchange amused looks and I clench my fists at their ignorance.
‘There’s no monster,’ simpered Ally, ‘come and play Frisbee with us, you’.
‘There is! I see him, he’s moving closer. He can see all of us! You need to run and hide’.
‘But we are hiding,’ slips in Chelsea. ‘We’re in the shade, the monster can’t see us from here. We’re completely safe’.
‘You’re not safe! None of us are! I’ve got to use my powers!’
Chelsea peers under her sunglasses at me and says ‘but didn’t you know that all of us counsellors are trained to fight monsters? What did you think our training session was for? We were each given a special power to defeat the monsters so if we see one, we’ve got it. Don’t worry’.
‘But you can’t see them! Only I have the power to see them!’ I shake my head defiantly. How would she know how to kill a monster that she couldn’t see? How dare she put us in this danger with her blatant lack of knowledge. If I was the only one that could see it (and see it I could. It was seething at me from the lower branches, it’s red eyes twisting sadistically in its sockets) it was I that was going to have to stop him.
‘I’m going to get my powers from the cabin. Stay in the shade and don’t move. The monster only attacks those in yellow’.
I dart off leaving the two girls stretching their yellow t-shirts before them, letting a bemused smile lick around their lips.
Inside, my hands desperately clamber for my powers. I know they’re here somewhere- if only I hadn’t hidden them so well! My straying eyes dare to look outside and the monster is crawling towards the players, dragging it’s walloping arms behind it and exhorting flurries of putrid steam from its nostrils. I need to help them now.
At last, I reach into my trunk and my hand closes on my powers. I can feel the warmth of it as I clasp it in my grip and dash outside. The girls are waiting for me now as the monster peers over their shoulders; their hair flutters in its wake. It raises its claws to the top of Ally’s head. He’s about to strike. Barely daring to breath, I bring forth my hand, feeling my powers bursting with an ardent throb under my fingernails. The monster dips his head as he looks at me and I attack. The strobes from my hand hit it straight in the chest and panting, it rolls to the floor. With a tentative grown, it gets up and flees. Success.
Ally turns to me, finally realising that something is going on and whispers urgently ‘is he gone yet?’
‘Yes, I got him with my powers.’
‘And powers are these?’
I opened my hand to reveal the reason for my success: a minute statue of a goat. The girls stand agog and I smile boastfully, few also possess the powers that I have.
Chelsea beckons me forward, a sparkle in her eyes and says ‘is there only one person here to save us?’ 'Yes.' 'Is that person you?' and, drawing in all the breath in my lungs, I let out a sigh of exasperation and reply ‘yes. Yes I am.’
‘You coming to play?’ calls one of the girls. She has strawberry blonde hair, cheeks peppered with freckles and the name of Ally. I nod enthusiastically and sprint over, letting the dew from the grass seep into my extra fast running sneakers.
The game begins and as I sling the Frisbee into the air, I watch it slice through the blue, cutting pizza slices in the air, before trundling on the floor like the metre stick we once used to measure the field at school. Yet, before long, my excitement starts to wane and I’m about to return to my cabin when I see it.
My hearts beats wildly and I cast about, anticipating everyone else’s shock as they notice it too. Yet, they carry on, oblivious to the malevolent stare that surveys them from the top branches.
‘Ooof! What was that?’ cackles the other counsellor as the Frisbee ricochets off the tree and I simply can’t take it anymore.
‘You’ve got to hide!’ I yell. ‘It can see you, it’s coming closer!’
The girl closest to me, Chelsea, regards me with a smile and replies ‘and what would that be, missus?’ I know she’s just playing with me now but we’ve no time to lose. I can’t believe it’s found me again.
‘The monster! It’s coming for us and it’s in that tree there,’ I say, pointing. ‘You need to hide now!’
The counsellor’s exchange amused looks and I clench my fists at their ignorance.
‘There’s no monster,’ simpered Ally, ‘come and play Frisbee with us, you’.
‘There is! I see him, he’s moving closer. He can see all of us! You need to run and hide’.
‘But we are hiding,’ slips in Chelsea. ‘We’re in the shade, the monster can’t see us from here. We’re completely safe’.
‘You’re not safe! None of us are! I’ve got to use my powers!’
Chelsea peers under her sunglasses at me and says ‘but didn’t you know that all of us counsellors are trained to fight monsters? What did you think our training session was for? We were each given a special power to defeat the monsters so if we see one, we’ve got it. Don’t worry’.
‘But you can’t see them! Only I have the power to see them!’ I shake my head defiantly. How would she know how to kill a monster that she couldn’t see? How dare she put us in this danger with her blatant lack of knowledge. If I was the only one that could see it (and see it I could. It was seething at me from the lower branches, it’s red eyes twisting sadistically in its sockets) it was I that was going to have to stop him.
‘I’m going to get my powers from the cabin. Stay in the shade and don’t move. The monster only attacks those in yellow’.
I dart off leaving the two girls stretching their yellow t-shirts before them, letting a bemused smile lick around their lips.
Inside, my hands desperately clamber for my powers. I know they’re here somewhere- if only I hadn’t hidden them so well! My straying eyes dare to look outside and the monster is crawling towards the players, dragging it’s walloping arms behind it and exhorting flurries of putrid steam from its nostrils. I need to help them now.
At last, I reach into my trunk and my hand closes on my powers. I can feel the warmth of it as I clasp it in my grip and dash outside. The girls are waiting for me now as the monster peers over their shoulders; their hair flutters in its wake. It raises its claws to the top of Ally’s head. He’s about to strike. Barely daring to breath, I bring forth my hand, feeling my powers bursting with an ardent throb under my fingernails. The monster dips his head as he looks at me and I attack. The strobes from my hand hit it straight in the chest and panting, it rolls to the floor. With a tentative grown, it gets up and flees. Success.
Ally turns to me, finally realising that something is going on and whispers urgently ‘is he gone yet?’
‘Yes, I got him with my powers.’
‘And powers are these?’
I opened my hand to reveal the reason for my success: a minute statue of a goat. The girls stand agog and I smile boastfully, few also possess the powers that I have.
Chelsea beckons me forward, a sparkle in her eyes and says ‘is there only one person here to save us?’ 'Yes.' 'Is that person you?' and, drawing in all the breath in my lungs, I let out a sigh of exasperation and reply ‘yes. Yes I am.’
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Sunday 25th July 2010
I’m halfway done. This time next month I’ll be slouching about Oglethorpe, probably playing flip cup and warding off refills of everclear (rape juice to you and I) in my shiny red party cup. However, ‘tis no point basking in the future when the present is oh so very presently present. Tomorrow boldly awaits and with it, the start of session 3. I would definitely go as far to say that I have skied through the rugged terrain of amateur counsellorhood and am now tussling with the reigns of semi-pro. Very soon I will be able sell this blog off to that idiotic series of ‘Bat Catching For Dummies’ and make 20 to 30 pounds. That’s like 11 caramel lattes.
As Emma and I made the struggle back to camp, I quickly finished my mega extra large caramel latte and experienced what I can only call a complete caffeine meltdown. There I was, chronically comatose in the front seat, practically jittering from the whole 2 shots of coffee I’d downed. I swiftly came to the conclusion that as hard as I try, I just cannot take it. I am a PG tips girl at heart and that way I will be forever.
My weekend was thoroughly pleasant. Anthony and I wasted a lot of time and money in the city via our epic wanderings and Emma and I chilled out and ate wonderful home cooked food at her home in Rinebeck. The outcome of this is that I am in a terrific mood that I am hoping will last me through the next 12 days.
Though no amusing stories to tell, I hope that this entry merely shows that I’m doing just fine, that I can write short amounts and that all is well in the world of Chelsea : )
As Emma and I made the struggle back to camp, I quickly finished my mega extra large caramel latte and experienced what I can only call a complete caffeine meltdown. There I was, chronically comatose in the front seat, practically jittering from the whole 2 shots of coffee I’d downed. I swiftly came to the conclusion that as hard as I try, I just cannot take it. I am a PG tips girl at heart and that way I will be forever.
My weekend was thoroughly pleasant. Anthony and I wasted a lot of time and money in the city via our epic wanderings and Emma and I chilled out and ate wonderful home cooked food at her home in Rinebeck. The outcome of this is that I am in a terrific mood that I am hoping will last me through the next 12 days.
Though no amusing stories to tell, I hope that this entry merely shows that I’m doing just fine, that I can write short amounts and that all is well in the world of Chelsea : )
Friday, 23 July 2010
Thursday 22nd July 2010
Hark! What’s this? A blog post?! You thought I’d forgotten you say? You thought I’d been dragged into the steely abyss of abhorrent child preoccupation? Yet, alas! Tis not the case my humble readers (hello Mumsy D!) In fact, there have been an array of reasons including spending every break hauling together an entry for the Student Radio Awards which is FINALLY DONE and I’m moderately content with.
However, the other reason that I only realised t’other eve, was that instead of grappling for tomorrow with a desperate groan in my chest, I’m skipping around it going ‘la la la la la, hello weekend, nice to see you! I’ve had quite a capital time thank you but 2 days off? Oh, go on!’ That’s right guys. I, Chelsea Dickenson, am finally casting in my cynical visage and embracing the fact that camp is really quite fun.
Of course, this week hasn’t been completely smooth. We had a girl with aspergers last week who managed to accuse a camper of sexual assault within 3 hours on the first day- eeeek. I definitely appreciated the challenge of working with a girl who constantly asked me questions such as ‘can I have your eyeballs?’ and ‘can I slap you please?’ (at least she was polite) but I didn’t quite fancy being also accused and seeing my life go down the pan.
Down the pan- what a marvellous phrase. These Americans already get confused when I say ‘just popping off to the loo’ so imagine if I start declaring ‘I’m just off to see a man about his pans’?
Some of the highlights from this week include: young love. A young boy, brought together with a girl through Cray fishing and high fives, was desperate to impress his loved one so collected 30 silly bands (bracelets that turn into shapes when you take them off. The manufacturers were right, they are silly) to swap with his friend for an ornament of a dolphin. The girl was overcome with giggling glee, yet I found out the next day that she’d called it quits. When I asked why, the girls around me replied ‘she dumped him because he was crying about losing a silly band yesterday’. If only they knew! Oh the shattering irony!!
Another high was seeing Emma and I’s ‘Glee Club’ (oh yes, we went there) perform last night in the talent show. They were amazing. However, a small 5-year-old boy stole the show after doing the cutest rendition of Thriller. I actually wanted to steal him by the end of the night.
Also, a major difference from last session is that we appear to have actually made a difference. I received a bounty of thank you cards today with generic ‘you’re awesome’ exclamations yet a couple were doused with lengthy explanations about how their attitude has changed about gossiping (we had a major issue at one point) and how they’ve started to appreciate what they’ve got more. All I can say for that is: wow. I’ve also learnt to appreciate my own Mum and Dad more since being here as kids really don’t understand what’s wrong when you dish out money for a film, pizza, the works and then they whinge about it not being what they wanted. How the Jonna team didn’t slap me silly, I’ll never know for all I wanted to do is go ‘I’LL TAKE MY ANGUS, THONGS AND FULL FRONTAL SNOGGING AND WATCH IT IN MY MOSQUITO BOUDOIR WHILST EATING 16 PIECES OF MASSIVE, GREASY, EXTREMEMLY AMERICAN PIZZA BEFORE VOMMING IT ALL OVER YOU’. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’d have a job by the end of it and I don’t quite fancy being stuck in a field in New York, thank you very much.
So, that’s it, session two is over. I’m popping to New York tomorrow (oh, I do like saying that) to find a Natwest. How absolutely devastatingly crap a reason is that to visit one of the most exciting cities in the world? Yet, I have rent to pay and pay that rent I will. I’m hoping to also catch a show and buy a fusillade of tourist junk to send to my loved ones. My last wish is to accost the naked cowboy and make him put on some clothes, the lairy minx.
I’ll leave you with a quick overview of the past 2 weeks in the best way possible. Ah children, what else can bring such gaiety?
Kids say the funniest things
12-year-old girl: Is Obama your president too?
Girl: I know what a booty call is! It’s when you call over to a boy and shake your bum in his face.
Camper: Did you brush your hair this morning?
Chelsea: No
Camper: You can tell
In a thank you card to Emma and I
‘You have been really nice during the whole week. I will be happy to serve you until Friday’.
I feel like Voldermort.
Girl 1: Should I get the Papa Johns cheese for the table?
Chelsea: The what?
Girl: The Papa Johns!
Girl 2: I think she means Parmesan, Chelsea.
Girl: Did Hilary Duff run for president?
Girl: Did you know that if a polar bear bites you, you turn into snow?
Total bites to date
38.
How silly of I to think I’d become immune to the blighters. One massive bite turned into a ravaging blister that scowled from my leg for 10 days. I told the kids that it was full of an emergency supply of lip-gloss. The things I do for the benefit of these childrens’ education…
Interesting find of the session
I have decided to get all cultured and knowledgeable through reading some top-notch classics and obviously, started with Pride and Prejudice. I was quite getting into it (please note my use of the word capital in this post) when I happened upon (oooh, there’s another classic vocab brag) this line:
“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!”
“La! My dear,” cried Maria.
La? La!!! What’s this? Jane Austen was a closet chav!
This made me so rapturously excited that I slipped into my Lacoste shell suit and did the cha cha slide on top of the monkey bars for all to see. The kids were yelling phrases such as ‘alriggggh ked’ and ‘ger’in ma novaaaa’. What a hoot!
However, the other reason that I only realised t’other eve, was that instead of grappling for tomorrow with a desperate groan in my chest, I’m skipping around it going ‘la la la la la, hello weekend, nice to see you! I’ve had quite a capital time thank you but 2 days off? Oh, go on!’ That’s right guys. I, Chelsea Dickenson, am finally casting in my cynical visage and embracing the fact that camp is really quite fun.
Of course, this week hasn’t been completely smooth. We had a girl with aspergers last week who managed to accuse a camper of sexual assault within 3 hours on the first day- eeeek. I definitely appreciated the challenge of working with a girl who constantly asked me questions such as ‘can I have your eyeballs?’ and ‘can I slap you please?’ (at least she was polite) but I didn’t quite fancy being also accused and seeing my life go down the pan.
Down the pan- what a marvellous phrase. These Americans already get confused when I say ‘just popping off to the loo’ so imagine if I start declaring ‘I’m just off to see a man about his pans’?
Some of the highlights from this week include: young love. A young boy, brought together with a girl through Cray fishing and high fives, was desperate to impress his loved one so collected 30 silly bands (bracelets that turn into shapes when you take them off. The manufacturers were right, they are silly) to swap with his friend for an ornament of a dolphin. The girl was overcome with giggling glee, yet I found out the next day that she’d called it quits. When I asked why, the girls around me replied ‘she dumped him because he was crying about losing a silly band yesterday’. If only they knew! Oh the shattering irony!!
Another high was seeing Emma and I’s ‘Glee Club’ (oh yes, we went there) perform last night in the talent show. They were amazing. However, a small 5-year-old boy stole the show after doing the cutest rendition of Thriller. I actually wanted to steal him by the end of the night.
Also, a major difference from last session is that we appear to have actually made a difference. I received a bounty of thank you cards today with generic ‘you’re awesome’ exclamations yet a couple were doused with lengthy explanations about how their attitude has changed about gossiping (we had a major issue at one point) and how they’ve started to appreciate what they’ve got more. All I can say for that is: wow. I’ve also learnt to appreciate my own Mum and Dad more since being here as kids really don’t understand what’s wrong when you dish out money for a film, pizza, the works and then they whinge about it not being what they wanted. How the Jonna team didn’t slap me silly, I’ll never know for all I wanted to do is go ‘I’LL TAKE MY ANGUS, THONGS AND FULL FRONTAL SNOGGING AND WATCH IT IN MY MOSQUITO BOUDOIR WHILST EATING 16 PIECES OF MASSIVE, GREASY, EXTREMEMLY AMERICAN PIZZA BEFORE VOMMING IT ALL OVER YOU’. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’d have a job by the end of it and I don’t quite fancy being stuck in a field in New York, thank you very much.
So, that’s it, session two is over. I’m popping to New York tomorrow (oh, I do like saying that) to find a Natwest. How absolutely devastatingly crap a reason is that to visit one of the most exciting cities in the world? Yet, I have rent to pay and pay that rent I will. I’m hoping to also catch a show and buy a fusillade of tourist junk to send to my loved ones. My last wish is to accost the naked cowboy and make him put on some clothes, the lairy minx.
I’ll leave you with a quick overview of the past 2 weeks in the best way possible. Ah children, what else can bring such gaiety?
Kids say the funniest things
12-year-old girl: Is Obama your president too?
Girl: I know what a booty call is! It’s when you call over to a boy and shake your bum in his face.
Camper: Did you brush your hair this morning?
Chelsea: No
Camper: You can tell
In a thank you card to Emma and I
‘You have been really nice during the whole week. I will be happy to serve you until Friday’.
I feel like Voldermort.
Girl 1: Should I get the Papa Johns cheese for the table?
Chelsea: The what?
Girl: The Papa Johns!
Girl 2: I think she means Parmesan, Chelsea.
Girl: Did Hilary Duff run for president?
Girl: Did you know that if a polar bear bites you, you turn into snow?
Total bites to date
38.
How silly of I to think I’d become immune to the blighters. One massive bite turned into a ravaging blister that scowled from my leg for 10 days. I told the kids that it was full of an emergency supply of lip-gloss. The things I do for the benefit of these childrens’ education…
Interesting find of the session
I have decided to get all cultured and knowledgeable through reading some top-notch classics and obviously, started with Pride and Prejudice. I was quite getting into it (please note my use of the word capital in this post) when I happened upon (oooh, there’s another classic vocab brag) this line:
“And is this all?” cried Elizabeth. “I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!”
“La! My dear,” cried Maria.
La? La!!! What’s this? Jane Austen was a closet chav!
This made me so rapturously excited that I slipped into my Lacoste shell suit and did the cha cha slide on top of the monkey bars for all to see. The kids were yelling phrases such as ‘alriggggh ked’ and ‘ger’in ma novaaaa’. What a hoot!
Tuesday, 13 July 2010
Sunday 11th July 2010
Why is there this magnificent swell betrothed to New York? Why are there songs brimming with admiration and lusty desires about the place, written by nostalgic people wracked with a yearning anticipation to be back there? More so, why am I sat here writing about New York when it is certainly a place that has been hounded by blemished ink, photographs, models, structures, honeyed lyrics, hurried chatter and structures that render echoes of the great city itself for decades already?
“New York is a galaxy of adventure at once elegant, exciting and bizarre. It's a city that moves so fast, it takes energy just to stand still.” - Barbara Walters
All I can say to that is, amen brother, er, I mean sister.
They say pictures paint a thousand words so here’s a plethora of lexis for you to divulge your nosey needs on:
One of my first sights after I'd hoisted myself from the subway which I must say, we spent half of our weekend on getting lost.
One of my first sights after getting off the Subway and walking to my hostel in Brooklyn. Lovely neighbourhood. Actually, in honesty, it really was nice!
When I said it was a nice neighbourhood, I obviously meant that our hostel was next to a funeral home.
They have such better flavours than us. Cinnabon flavoured? IN MY MOUTH- YES PLEASE!
Anthony and I on a very busy Stone St. at an Irish Pub.
Louis XIV and I fooling about in the Met Museum.
Really impressive art.
Actual real impressive art: Mark by Chuck Close.
So I was in Urban Outfitters, heard somebody call my name and Nuval, my friend from Manchester Uni popped up. So much for one of the busiest cities in the world, eh?
Anthony got fined.
Dollar dollar pizza.
Me and Spidey. For those of you who didn't know, Spiderman is hispanic, a bit chubby and after dollar dollar (probably for his dollar dollar pizza).
Obama condom man. He was kadrunkadrunk and being sniffed at by touristing families outside of the M&M shop near Times Square.
Disappointment on my face after they switched the World Cup off at Times Square due to restaurants not getting enough business. What. The Hell.
But overall, it was a smashing trip and only 12 days until the next...
“New York is a galaxy of adventure at once elegant, exciting and bizarre. It's a city that moves so fast, it takes energy just to stand still.” - Barbara Walters
All I can say to that is, amen brother, er, I mean sister.
They say pictures paint a thousand words so here’s a plethora of lexis for you to divulge your nosey needs on:
One of my first sights after I'd hoisted myself from the subway which I must say, we spent half of our weekend on getting lost.
One of my first sights after getting off the Subway and walking to my hostel in Brooklyn. Lovely neighbourhood. Actually, in honesty, it really was nice!
When I said it was a nice neighbourhood, I obviously meant that our hostel was next to a funeral home.
They have such better flavours than us. Cinnabon flavoured? IN MY MOUTH- YES PLEASE!
Anthony and I on a very busy Stone St. at an Irish Pub.
Louis XIV and I fooling about in the Met Museum.
Really impressive art.
Actual real impressive art: Mark by Chuck Close.
So I was in Urban Outfitters, heard somebody call my name and Nuval, my friend from Manchester Uni popped up. So much for one of the busiest cities in the world, eh?
Anthony got fined.
Dollar dollar pizza.
Me and Spidey. For those of you who didn't know, Spiderman is hispanic, a bit chubby and after dollar dollar (probably for his dollar dollar pizza).
Obama condom man. He was kadrunkadrunk and being sniffed at by touristing families outside of the M&M shop near Times Square.
Disappointment on my face after they switched the World Cup off at Times Square due to restaurants not getting enough business. What. The Hell.
But overall, it was a smashing trip and only 12 days until the next...
Friday, 9 July 2010
Thursday 8th July 2010
Top 10 Things I Have Learnt From My First Session at Camp
1. Just because both of your nations speak English, it doesn’t mean they understand you
The amount of times I’ve had to repeat myself or change my sentence due to a lack of understanding is ridiculous. Today in Arts and Crafts, I said ‘how long would you like your piece of wool?’ to which everyone cackled. Sarah chirped ‘do you mean yarn?’ to which I retorted ‘no, it’s wool’. She giggled to herself before stating ‘no, it’s called yarn, sweetie’ which irked me rotten. I understand that you gained your independence from us in 17whatever but, IT IS CALLED ENGLISH FOR A REASON!
2. You will turn into a child
To settle the girls down after an abundance of candy (I said candy. Just spewed in my mouth a little bit) I proposed a game of ‘levitation’. I snapped all the lights off, got a girl to lie on the floor and the others to sit around her and repeat the traditional, if not a little satanic, chant of-
‘She looks ill,
She is ill,
She looks dead,
She is dead’
- before hoisting the sombre child lying on the floor as high up as possible.
It didn’t bloody work but I was thoroughly entertained by their titter-smattered attempts.
3. Farting is funny
Whilst doing the aforementioned activity of ‘levitating’, I’m sure you can understand that it is somewhat difficult for a group of 11 year olds to keep schtum in the seriousness of the occasion. After much giggling and scolding of said giggling, the girls finally settled down and suddenly, a swift silence swept the cabin and nothing in the room stirred. The girls held their breath as they sucked in the anticipation and formed the words of the sacred incantation; one leant in to start it off and-
‘Pffftttttt’
It was the lamest, most squeaky fart I have ever heard in my entire life but in that moment, it was also the funniest, most farcical thing that’s ever happened. You may call me childish but the group of rolling teens will vouch that that stray fart was top quality comedy genius. The girl who did it was applauded and praised for her noxious efforts.
4. When your parents used to not pay attention to you, it wasn’t because they didn’t love you, it was just because they were bored of you
I fear this point is fairly self-explanatory. It’s not that I don’t like the kids I work with, it’s just sometimes you really don’t care that they can blow bubbles underwater or whether they once saw a man walk 4 dogs at the same time. Sorry.
5. Hygiene is an unnecessary precaution
Smelly, minging, gamy, ripe, musty, whiffy, stinky, fruity, funky, grim- whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is that we all smell so no one really notices. Well, not until you make a short trip to Walmart and you clear out the cheese aisle.
6. When told that working at summer camp was hard, they weren’t lying
Today I worked from 7am-11pm and had one 45 minute break. Now, I know what you’re thinking- ‘that’s illegal, right?’- but not in the camp world, my caring friends. You see, technically your meal times and siesta sessions are ‘breaks’ though in reality, that’s actually the part where you’re scrappling with children who want meatloaf in their hair or to use celery sticks as water guns. There’s also the fact that a child woke me at 3.30am the first night (I did a terrific job at not screaming. There she was, hovering over my bed with her pasty face and I thought ‘my god, the ghost of Summer Camp Past is here to show me my wrongs) and spent half an hour sitting by her bed so she felt comforted in the dark. Overall, it’s definitely a tough job, but sometimes it’s nice to work hard for something- makes you have that ‘oooh, I did good’ feeling somewhere deep (very deep) down inside.
7. You can sleep whilst swimming
During the latter of this week I have been so exhausted that I found myself entwined around the 5ft ladder this Tuesday, taking a well-deserved snooze. Other key places for taking a nap include: the bridge by the creek, the top of the monkey bars and the toilet.
8. Kids will match you up with your fellow co-counsellors
I’ve found that the best way to deal with the kids gossip about you and any other counsellor is to just boldly state ‘Yes. I am absolutely, 100% in love with them’ followed by a longing sigh and air stroke in said counsellor’s direction. They laugh, they giggle, they even sometimes run up to the guy to update them on the hot goss but after that, they usually don’t bother you again. The only problem is that Max is probably starting to think that I do actually fancy him as my emotional hankering is getting a little bit too good. The other day he just groaned after a poignant performance and said ‘Chelsea, please stop’. I haven’t desisted yet but I fear a court order may put me in my place.
9. Gossip is a dietary staple
I’ve always prided myself on the fact that I don’t tend to spread rumours or gossip unless the information at hand is despairingly juicy, however here, I thrive on it, and it’s not just me. Whether it’s counsellor relationship speculation or how one kid had a slight accident of the bowel variety (I’m not even joking), any information that defers from the regularity of life is the sweet nectar of a counsellor’s existence.
Another sweet nectar is coca cola (the red one). Anthony looked at me today and said ‘you look like you’ve had a tough day’, passed me coke and I literally shook with excitement.
10. You will long, lust, pine and covet for the weekend
I have been counting down my trip to NY tomorrow for the past 10 days. It is well overdue and I can’t bloody wait so, roll on tomorrow amigos! I vow to get off with statue of Liberty and gyrate with the naked cowboy at least 12 times, you have my absolute, cripplingly satisfying, stiflingly accurate, top advice giving, counsellor word on it.
1. Just because both of your nations speak English, it doesn’t mean they understand you
The amount of times I’ve had to repeat myself or change my sentence due to a lack of understanding is ridiculous. Today in Arts and Crafts, I said ‘how long would you like your piece of wool?’ to which everyone cackled. Sarah chirped ‘do you mean yarn?’ to which I retorted ‘no, it’s wool’. She giggled to herself before stating ‘no, it’s called yarn, sweetie’ which irked me rotten. I understand that you gained your independence from us in 17whatever but, IT IS CALLED ENGLISH FOR A REASON!
2. You will turn into a child
To settle the girls down after an abundance of candy (I said candy. Just spewed in my mouth a little bit) I proposed a game of ‘levitation’. I snapped all the lights off, got a girl to lie on the floor and the others to sit around her and repeat the traditional, if not a little satanic, chant of-
‘She looks ill,
She is ill,
She looks dead,
She is dead’
- before hoisting the sombre child lying on the floor as high up as possible.
It didn’t bloody work but I was thoroughly entertained by their titter-smattered attempts.
3. Farting is funny
Whilst doing the aforementioned activity of ‘levitating’, I’m sure you can understand that it is somewhat difficult for a group of 11 year olds to keep schtum in the seriousness of the occasion. After much giggling and scolding of said giggling, the girls finally settled down and suddenly, a swift silence swept the cabin and nothing in the room stirred. The girls held their breath as they sucked in the anticipation and formed the words of the sacred incantation; one leant in to start it off and-
‘Pffftttttt’
It was the lamest, most squeaky fart I have ever heard in my entire life but in that moment, it was also the funniest, most farcical thing that’s ever happened. You may call me childish but the group of rolling teens will vouch that that stray fart was top quality comedy genius. The girl who did it was applauded and praised for her noxious efforts.
4. When your parents used to not pay attention to you, it wasn’t because they didn’t love you, it was just because they were bored of you
I fear this point is fairly self-explanatory. It’s not that I don’t like the kids I work with, it’s just sometimes you really don’t care that they can blow bubbles underwater or whether they once saw a man walk 4 dogs at the same time. Sorry.
5. Hygiene is an unnecessary precaution
Smelly, minging, gamy, ripe, musty, whiffy, stinky, fruity, funky, grim- whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is that we all smell so no one really notices. Well, not until you make a short trip to Walmart and you clear out the cheese aisle.
6. When told that working at summer camp was hard, they weren’t lying
Today I worked from 7am-11pm and had one 45 minute break. Now, I know what you’re thinking- ‘that’s illegal, right?’- but not in the camp world, my caring friends. You see, technically your meal times and siesta sessions are ‘breaks’ though in reality, that’s actually the part where you’re scrappling with children who want meatloaf in their hair or to use celery sticks as water guns. There’s also the fact that a child woke me at 3.30am the first night (I did a terrific job at not screaming. There she was, hovering over my bed with her pasty face and I thought ‘my god, the ghost of Summer Camp Past is here to show me my wrongs) and spent half an hour sitting by her bed so she felt comforted in the dark. Overall, it’s definitely a tough job, but sometimes it’s nice to work hard for something- makes you have that ‘oooh, I did good’ feeling somewhere deep (very deep) down inside.
7. You can sleep whilst swimming
During the latter of this week I have been so exhausted that I found myself entwined around the 5ft ladder this Tuesday, taking a well-deserved snooze. Other key places for taking a nap include: the bridge by the creek, the top of the monkey bars and the toilet.
8. Kids will match you up with your fellow co-counsellors
I’ve found that the best way to deal with the kids gossip about you and any other counsellor is to just boldly state ‘Yes. I am absolutely, 100% in love with them’ followed by a longing sigh and air stroke in said counsellor’s direction. They laugh, they giggle, they even sometimes run up to the guy to update them on the hot goss but after that, they usually don’t bother you again. The only problem is that Max is probably starting to think that I do actually fancy him as my emotional hankering is getting a little bit too good. The other day he just groaned after a poignant performance and said ‘Chelsea, please stop’. I haven’t desisted yet but I fear a court order may put me in my place.
9. Gossip is a dietary staple
I’ve always prided myself on the fact that I don’t tend to spread rumours or gossip unless the information at hand is despairingly juicy, however here, I thrive on it, and it’s not just me. Whether it’s counsellor relationship speculation or how one kid had a slight accident of the bowel variety (I’m not even joking), any information that defers from the regularity of life is the sweet nectar of a counsellor’s existence.
Another sweet nectar is coca cola (the red one). Anthony looked at me today and said ‘you look like you’ve had a tough day’, passed me coke and I literally shook with excitement.
10. You will long, lust, pine and covet for the weekend
I have been counting down my trip to NY tomorrow for the past 10 days. It is well overdue and I can’t bloody wait so, roll on tomorrow amigos! I vow to get off with statue of Liberty and gyrate with the naked cowboy at least 12 times, you have my absolute, cripplingly satisfying, stiflingly accurate, top advice giving, counsellor word on it.
Thursday, 8 July 2010
Wednesday 7th July 2010
As I was retreating from a nature hike with a group, I submitted myself to a game of ‘I spy’ with an upset girl in order to cheer her up. I started with the usual straightforward objects (P for Plants, U for Udi) and it wasn’t long until the girl joined in. As we were hoisting ourselves up the hill to the basketball courts the girl states ‘I spy with my little eye, something beginning with S’. I try all the obvious guesses (sky, sun, sister) but all of them failed to render success.
‘Are you sure you can see this thing?’ I asked the girl
‘Yes, it’s a boy’s name. I can see him now’.
I cast about despairingly since all the boys are away at activities- no boys are about- before giving in.
‘That’s it, I give in, who on earth can you see?’
‘Uncle Scott, silly!’
I look about and think good lord this child is demented. There wasn’t an adult insight, let alone a man! Yet when I stated this, the girl merely remarked ‘oh, but Scott is dead’.
Now, this takes me off guard and I’m thinking ‘hot Aunt Madge, what the blinkin’ Stevens is this lass on about? Is there a ghoulish geezer creeping in the shrubbery or is she actually mad as 6 mad things?’
‘He died here at camp after a branch fell on him’ continues the girl. ‘He was 30 when it happened and I’m the only one in my family that can see him’.
There are not many times in my life that I can truly say I’m stumped but in this moment I truly was. Half of me wanted to caw out, clutching my splitting sides at the sheer ridiculousness of what had just tumbled out of this little girl's mouth, the other half wanted to pour a tub of salt around the girl, run off in the other direction and get Yvette and Karl from Most Haunted to come and exorcise her.
Instead, I think the words ‘oooh, that must be nice’ stumbled out of my mouth (nice one Chelsea) before shunting her towards Athletics and letting the mystification set in.
Hours later when I’d forgotten about my bizarre encounter, the girl’s sister strides in and asserts that her sister has been lying about her Dad and Granddad hurting animals and breaking rabbit’s legs for fun. I make the connection instantly and ask ‘have you got an Uncle Scott by any chance?’. The girl shakes her head in confusion and I exasperate ‘oh my life’ before trying to smother my chuckles in my pillow.
Even later I bump into the raconteur’s counsellors, share the stories and they say ‘Ah yes, she’s just told us that she killed a dog. I think we’ve got a pathological liar on our hands’.
I’ve never believed in pathological liars before, I mean, surely they’re just lying when they say they don’t know they’re lying, right? But hark at this, I believe it now. This girl finds it completely necessary to fabricate these intricate lies and thread them through her everyday activities. I’m not complaining, it currently keeps me from stabbing my eyeballs out with grass reeds from the usual monotony of ‘Look at me swim! Look at me cartwheel! Push me! She hit me! He bit my chin!’ but I am starting to worry that she came up to me last week and whispered ‘I really like you Chelsea’.
Blimey oh reily, what the bloody hell does that mean?!?
Kids say the funniest things
Girl 1: Chelsea, where was William Shakespeare from?
Chelsea: England!
Girl 2: Ohhhhh, I thought he was from Kansas… Oh hang on, that’s the Wizard of Oz isn’t it?!
Girl: I eat fabric softener and carpet cleaner.
The same girl was later asked what the worst thing she had ever eaten was. She answered ‘My Mom’s meatloaf’.
Damn. That must be godawful meatloaf.
Counsellors say the funniest things
Chelsea: Urchkkkkk
Emma: What?
Chelsea: I think I definitely just ate a stick instead of chocolate.
Ricky (in a dazed voice): Yes, the British do like to eat sticks.
Total bug bites to date:
27. Yes, you can say ‘well done Chelsea, you’ve cracked it’ but now my blog url and title seems slightly pointless. Must remember to roll in grass for 20 minutes tomorrow evening. Note to brain: ticks are worth 10 each.
‘Are you sure you can see this thing?’ I asked the girl
‘Yes, it’s a boy’s name. I can see him now’.
I cast about despairingly since all the boys are away at activities- no boys are about- before giving in.
‘That’s it, I give in, who on earth can you see?’
‘Uncle Scott, silly!’
I look about and think good lord this child is demented. There wasn’t an adult insight, let alone a man! Yet when I stated this, the girl merely remarked ‘oh, but Scott is dead’.
Now, this takes me off guard and I’m thinking ‘hot Aunt Madge, what the blinkin’ Stevens is this lass on about? Is there a ghoulish geezer creeping in the shrubbery or is she actually mad as 6 mad things?’
‘He died here at camp after a branch fell on him’ continues the girl. ‘He was 30 when it happened and I’m the only one in my family that can see him’.
There are not many times in my life that I can truly say I’m stumped but in this moment I truly was. Half of me wanted to caw out, clutching my splitting sides at the sheer ridiculousness of what had just tumbled out of this little girl's mouth, the other half wanted to pour a tub of salt around the girl, run off in the other direction and get Yvette and Karl from Most Haunted to come and exorcise her.
Instead, I think the words ‘oooh, that must be nice’ stumbled out of my mouth (nice one Chelsea) before shunting her towards Athletics and letting the mystification set in.
Hours later when I’d forgotten about my bizarre encounter, the girl’s sister strides in and asserts that her sister has been lying about her Dad and Granddad hurting animals and breaking rabbit’s legs for fun. I make the connection instantly and ask ‘have you got an Uncle Scott by any chance?’. The girl shakes her head in confusion and I exasperate ‘oh my life’ before trying to smother my chuckles in my pillow.
Even later I bump into the raconteur’s counsellors, share the stories and they say ‘Ah yes, she’s just told us that she killed a dog. I think we’ve got a pathological liar on our hands’.
I’ve never believed in pathological liars before, I mean, surely they’re just lying when they say they don’t know they’re lying, right? But hark at this, I believe it now. This girl finds it completely necessary to fabricate these intricate lies and thread them through her everyday activities. I’m not complaining, it currently keeps me from stabbing my eyeballs out with grass reeds from the usual monotony of ‘Look at me swim! Look at me cartwheel! Push me! She hit me! He bit my chin!’ but I am starting to worry that she came up to me last week and whispered ‘I really like you Chelsea’.
Blimey oh reily, what the bloody hell does that mean?!?
Kids say the funniest things
Girl 1: Chelsea, where was William Shakespeare from?
Chelsea: England!
Girl 2: Ohhhhh, I thought he was from Kansas… Oh hang on, that’s the Wizard of Oz isn’t it?!
Girl: I eat fabric softener and carpet cleaner.
The same girl was later asked what the worst thing she had ever eaten was. She answered ‘My Mom’s meatloaf’.
Damn. That must be godawful meatloaf.
Counsellors say the funniest things
Chelsea: Urchkkkkk
Emma: What?
Chelsea: I think I definitely just ate a stick instead of chocolate.
Ricky (in a dazed voice): Yes, the British do like to eat sticks.
Total bug bites to date:
27. Yes, you can say ‘well done Chelsea, you’ve cracked it’ but now my blog url and title seems slightly pointless. Must remember to roll in grass for 20 minutes tomorrow evening. Note to brain: ticks are worth 10 each.
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Monday 5th July 2010
Udi, the camp programmer and chief teller-offer came to my cabin before and said ‘do you want me to talk to your girls, yeah?’ in his heady Sri Lankan tones. I was a little apprehensive at first since my cabin had actually listened to my blunt words this morning and we’d had a pretty nice day. However, after leaving them during playground time, a ruckus had formed via the medium of: boys. How my girls have managed to avoid all this silly boy nonsense for this long, I’ll never know. Actually, how dare they tease me with pretending they weren’t interested! 3 days left to go, I thought I’d got away scot-free yet alas, bedlam is running amok the cabin in the ghastly memorable form of two girls liking one boy, the boy likes one of the girls, they go out and the other is majorly upset. I managed to cheer up said girl with a sneaky milkyway (this is rapidly turning into my strategy for all stressy situations. Hi, I’m Chelsea and I’m a comfort eater) but with all the gossip and tantrums bundled in there, my cabin was not in a happy place. Due to this, I gave Udi the nod, he slapped Emma and I on the backs and stormed into the rickety white chasm of hostility.
Emma and I, perched on the golf cart outside, gave up trying to listen in after 2 minutes but the fragmented interjections only confirmed that Udi was tackling some heavy stuff.
Twenty minutes later, the door swung open and Udi strides out looking somewhat serene and states ‘they’re good now guys’, before hopping on the golf cart and speeding off to the counsellor quarters.
Emma and I exchange confused looks before anxiously entering the cabin. I imagine a war scene in front of me: pillows torn in half, mattresses bearing smoking wounds and children lying strewn across the parched floor, but in reality everything is just as it was but now, the girls are gathered in the middle giggling together. The only 2 not getting involved are perching on opposite beds before one whispers ‘I’m sorry’ to which the other reciprocates ‘I’m sorry too’. They get up, hug it out and before I know it, I’ve got my arms around them too going ‘Oh my sweet children! What a beautiful moment!’ but in my head I am absolutely and completely perplexed. How on earth did Udi manage it? How on earth did the guy that I know mostly from making inappropriate comments at Oglethorpe manage to subdue a group of 8 girls in a few swift minutes? I’ve been trying to do that all week and kapow, he’s done it: gold medal, personal best and world title goes to Mr. Udi.
I’m back off my break now and they’re all asleep as Al Green simpers away in the background. My sleep playlist for them is called ‘The Mellow Mix’. The Beatles ‘Blackbird’ (my 3rd favourite song ever) has just come on- I’m trying to make them subconsciously like all of my music. I don’t know how many more times I can listen to Usher before I googlemap his house in Atlanta, trek up there and sing ‘OMG’ 2844 times outside his bedroom window. Oh Cold War Kids, ‘Audience of One’! How do they not like these songs?! It is a travesty and that’s the damn truth.
So, it’s 3 days to go and we’re starting to get on. Karen’s going to step in soon and say ‘I told you so’ after she found me desperately clutching onto my mug of PG tips this morning and clawing the table in front. Alas, bring on this ‘norming’ and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a decent night’s sleep and my face will stop scaring the 5 year olds. I’m swiftly moving from ‘British Girl’ to ‘Gritish Girl’. Today I looked down and thought ‘Oooh Chelsea, you look tanned’ before I realised that it was just dirt. But hey, the truth is that though I’m lying in a clammy cabin with bugs kamikaze-ing against my computer screen and my face looking like a gaunt vagabond, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. So avast ye negativity, set your sails and unburden my shores for I’m going to make sure that the last 3 days of session ‘the things that dreams are made of’. Oh yes Human League, you’ve had it down for years.
Kids say the funniest things
Girl trying to get out of getting her daily calcium intake:
Girl: Milk is worse for you than cigarettes. My Mom told me.
Counsellors say the funniest things
I should explain that we have a big board up in the counsellor room where we can give each other ‘warm & fuzzy’ messages. My ‘warm & fuzzy’ from Ricky read:
‘I’m so glad you’ve got a base tan. Your original color was starting to hurt my eyes’.
Total bug bites to date
27. In the sweet words of The Beatles, ‘it’s getting better all the time’.
Emma and I, perched on the golf cart outside, gave up trying to listen in after 2 minutes but the fragmented interjections only confirmed that Udi was tackling some heavy stuff.
Twenty minutes later, the door swung open and Udi strides out looking somewhat serene and states ‘they’re good now guys’, before hopping on the golf cart and speeding off to the counsellor quarters.
Emma and I exchange confused looks before anxiously entering the cabin. I imagine a war scene in front of me: pillows torn in half, mattresses bearing smoking wounds and children lying strewn across the parched floor, but in reality everything is just as it was but now, the girls are gathered in the middle giggling together. The only 2 not getting involved are perching on opposite beds before one whispers ‘I’m sorry’ to which the other reciprocates ‘I’m sorry too’. They get up, hug it out and before I know it, I’ve got my arms around them too going ‘Oh my sweet children! What a beautiful moment!’ but in my head I am absolutely and completely perplexed. How on earth did Udi manage it? How on earth did the guy that I know mostly from making inappropriate comments at Oglethorpe manage to subdue a group of 8 girls in a few swift minutes? I’ve been trying to do that all week and kapow, he’s done it: gold medal, personal best and world title goes to Mr. Udi.
I’m back off my break now and they’re all asleep as Al Green simpers away in the background. My sleep playlist for them is called ‘The Mellow Mix’. The Beatles ‘Blackbird’ (my 3rd favourite song ever) has just come on- I’m trying to make them subconsciously like all of my music. I don’t know how many more times I can listen to Usher before I googlemap his house in Atlanta, trek up there and sing ‘OMG’ 2844 times outside his bedroom window. Oh Cold War Kids, ‘Audience of One’! How do they not like these songs?! It is a travesty and that’s the damn truth.
So, it’s 3 days to go and we’re starting to get on. Karen’s going to step in soon and say ‘I told you so’ after she found me desperately clutching onto my mug of PG tips this morning and clawing the table in front. Alas, bring on this ‘norming’ and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a decent night’s sleep and my face will stop scaring the 5 year olds. I’m swiftly moving from ‘British Girl’ to ‘Gritish Girl’. Today I looked down and thought ‘Oooh Chelsea, you look tanned’ before I realised that it was just dirt. But hey, the truth is that though I’m lying in a clammy cabin with bugs kamikaze-ing against my computer screen and my face looking like a gaunt vagabond, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. So avast ye negativity, set your sails and unburden my shores for I’m going to make sure that the last 3 days of session ‘the things that dreams are made of’. Oh yes Human League, you’ve had it down for years.
Kids say the funniest things
Girl trying to get out of getting her daily calcium intake:
Girl: Milk is worse for you than cigarettes. My Mom told me.
Counsellors say the funniest things
I should explain that we have a big board up in the counsellor room where we can give each other ‘warm & fuzzy’ messages. My ‘warm & fuzzy’ from Ricky read:
‘I’m so glad you’ve got a base tan. Your original color was starting to hurt my eyes’.
Total bug bites to date
27. In the sweet words of The Beatles, ‘it’s getting better all the time’.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Sunday 4th July 2010
Oh my god, what a day.
Everything started off as usual by the
flagpole but this time when we assembled, the crowd of kids and counsellors was decked out in red, white and blue. Quite aware that today was official ‘America has finally freed itself from the evil British Day’, I whacked out the old union jack socks, hitched them up over my floral trainers and gallivanted up to the flagpole.
Well, the response I got was hysterical. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Erik’s face as he said ‘I don’t think we can be friends anymore’. Max actually looked mortally offended whereas Ally merely quipped ‘they’re just a pair of socks guys’.
I soon got my comeuppance though, when a small group of children teemed around my cabin shrieking ‘THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!’ as Chris the life guard, dressed as a ‘blanket cowboy man’ (it was his superhero disguise, you’ll understand soon) flailed about on a broom, waving an American flag back and forth amongst the rabble. I was also made to apologise to the American flag which Anthony artfully captured on film. After watching, I compared the snippet to the Covergirl advert that America’s Next Top Model have to do in terms of it’s professionability and outstanding honesty.
The fun and games continued and as the evening set in we were sent back to our cabins to prepare for ‘Superhero Hour’. My cabin had to get together and make up new hero alter egos for Emma and I and after their last attempt to express me in creative form (a poem about how badly I smell), I was slightly dubious. However, they uncreatively came up with ‘Age Girl’ for Emma (her powers include looking 18 and 25. Wow) and ‘British Girl’ for me. In fact, I could have quite easily got away with it unscathed but no, I had to push it didn’t I.
As it got to the unveiling of our superheroes, I strode up, punched my fists into an authoritative pose and belted out an ‘interesting’ version of ‘God Save The Queen’ using all archetypical commodities such as crumpets, tea and Hogwarts. I then went on to how I could successfully turn my enemies into fish and chips in a single flick of my foot (one of my campers demonstrated this wonderfully) and the whole thing concluded with me announcing ‘ah, but my greatest strength is that I am accepting of all nations, even on days when they celebrate my defeat’, before ripping open my top to reveal a vest top decorated in a star spangled banner declaring ‘AMERICA IS GREAT!’
Bloody hell, I haven’t even got to the shameful part yet and I’m already cringing at my incredible lack of self-preservation. However, it wasn’t until we’d rolled the girls back to the cabins, got on their pjs and unsuccessfully went in search of fireworks that it all kicked off.
I climbed back into my cabin to find three girls in hysterics on their beds. I see them, am immediately terrified but then remember that I’ve been told about this, it’s July 4th and of course they’re missing their families. I sit down next to one of them and tell her ‘it’s going to be alright, you’ve only got 4 more days before you get to see your family again’. However, after 5 minutes of dedicated cooing and sympathy, I unravel that these girls are not in the slightest bit homesick. These girls are crying because they didn’t get to see any fireworks. I look down at them and think ‘you are 11 and 12 years old for gods sake, get over it’ but instead say ‘guys, there’s nothing you can do about it now so I think we should just move on’. But no. They are still yowling. I don’t know what to do. I cast around the room, see my craft bag, tell the girls to get ready for a firework show and switch off the lights.
In the cramped toilet I’m thinking ‘what the hell am I going to do now’, but within seconds I’m taping and tying blue and green ribbon all over me. I stumble out, grab the torch and spend a minute thrashing about like a retarded penguin whilst singing Hall of the Mountain Troll King. I hesitate as I anticipate their response (I could have just seriously lost my street cred. It’s probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done) but then they’re whooping and cheering and calling encore and I think ‘yes, I’ve done it! I’ve smited these snivelling banshees!’. For the encore, I do a delightful rendition of Stauss's The Blue Daube before snapping on the lights and herding them into bed but oh no, they don’t want to go to bed any more.
Pumped up from my follying frolics they’re now chasing each other around the room. Christ. I try and calm them down but it’s past the point where they’ll listen to me now. One girl reveals a surgical glove filled with water and starts dropping it on the floor to which I feint shock. They’re all paying attention now so I think, this is my chance, get them to listen whilst you can. The girl drops it again and I gasp again and they all start to giggle. I look up at them with pleading eyes and simper ‘I think it’s time to go to bed now’ and for a second I think its worked but then another girl swoops down, picks up the swollen glove and starts throwing it about the cabin. She then starts shouting about how she’s going to burst it and with that, the first girl starts starts wailing. Huge, glistening tears are rolling down her cheeks and I’m sat there thinking ‘is she kidding?’ and all I know is that I need to shut this kid up. I demand the glove back and once in the sobbing girl’s arms, she shuts up and starts giggling. Good god! She’s a bloody schitzo! I know now it’s time to call this night to a close so I get up, tell them to get to bed and as I turn my back I hear feet hit the floor and feel a cold rush of water spread over my t-shirt. She’s hit me. That little minion has thrown the glove at me and it’s rapidly dripping down my back. I’m in so much shock that all I can do is start to giggle as the shocked faces of the girls turn into howling grins riddled with menacing exchanges. Oh god, what have I started now.
In seconds, a girl has ran to the bathroom and the next thing I know she’s dousing the first girl in a cup of water- this is getting out of hand. I’m shouting now and as I go to grab the cup of water, hysterical fit girl dashes in front of me and BAM. She’s slipped over and she’s on the floor. Oh my god, oh my god, she’s dead, she’s dead. Hang on. She’s moving. She’s laughing. Everyone’s laughing bar me in fact. They’re clinging to each other as the girl scrabbles about on the floor, writhing in the mess. I’m just stood there absolutely horrified at everything that’s happening. I demand that everyone stops what they’re doing and for the injured, sardonic child to go outside and wait for me. I check she’s okay, I scold her but in retrospect I am far too light on her. I go back in, mop up the mess, command the girls into their beds and switch off the lights. After another lung popping baying fit, they’re still messing about when Emma returns off her break and I look at her, exasperated. I always thought I could deal with kids, especially those closer to my age but tonight, I have officially had enough.
As I slope off, I feel exhausted and delve into the staff fridge for 26 milkyways (mars bars to you and me) and collapse in an armchair. Sadly (or perhaps gladly), my night is merely a hiccup in the works compared to other counsellors so I just sit there, taking in the stories of demonic children and think ‘oh sweet Friday, hurry up and quell these childish ordeals’. We’re apparently supposed to go through this stage with the kids but I’m very much over this ‘storming’ and ready for the ‘norming’. I’m going to sleep fingers, toes, hair, eyes and ribs crossed tonight that I’ll wake up and everything will be hunky-dory.
So, perhaps a bit of a depressing entry tonight so I shall end on a few of the brilliant things that have kept me going today:
Kids say the funniest things
Ricky: Who can tell me the oldest city in America?
Boy: CHINA!
Girl: How do you spell USA?
Chris: So guys, who did America gain independence from?
Kids: CHELSEAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Whilst a group of kids are talking about burgers
Girl: I talk to trees
Counsellors say the funniest things
When talking about Emma, my co-counsellor, and I
Udi: You guys go together like water and milk.
Karen: So who knows what 4th July is?
Me: It’s the day you celebrate being independent from Britain.
Whilst Sarah and I are showering, Gavin comes in and begins to talk
Gavin: Arh, I’ve just put some hydrocortisone on to help my itchy feet.
Sarah: What, hold on. You’ve got HIV?
Total bug bites to date
26. I look like I’ve got chicken pox.
Everything started off as usual by the
flagpole but this time when we assembled, the crowd of kids and counsellors was decked out in red, white and blue. Quite aware that today was official ‘America has finally freed itself from the evil British Day’, I whacked out the old union jack socks, hitched them up over my floral trainers and gallivanted up to the flagpole. Well, the response I got was hysterical. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Erik’s face as he said ‘I don’t think we can be friends anymore’. Max actually looked mortally offended whereas Ally merely quipped ‘they’re just a pair of socks guys’.
I soon got my comeuppance though, when a small group of children teemed around my cabin shrieking ‘THE BRITISH ARE COMING! THE BRITISH ARE COMING!’ as Chris the life guard, dressed as a ‘blanket cowboy man’ (it was his superhero disguise, you’ll understand soon) flailed about on a broom, waving an American flag back and forth amongst the rabble. I was also made to apologise to the American flag which Anthony artfully captured on film. After watching, I compared the snippet to the Covergirl advert that America’s Next Top Model have to do in terms of it’s professionability and outstanding honesty.
The fun and games continued and as the evening set in we were sent back to our cabins to prepare for ‘Superhero Hour’. My cabin had to get together and make up new hero alter egos for Emma and I and after their last attempt to express me in creative form (a poem about how badly I smell), I was slightly dubious. However, they uncreatively came up with ‘Age Girl’ for Emma (her powers include looking 18 and 25. Wow) and ‘British Girl’ for me. In fact, I could have quite easily got away with it unscathed but no, I had to push it didn’t I.
As it got to the unveiling of our superheroes, I strode up, punched my fists into an authoritative pose and belted out an ‘interesting’ version of ‘God Save The Queen’ using all archetypical commodities such as crumpets, tea and Hogwarts. I then went on to how I could successfully turn my enemies into fish and chips in a single flick of my foot (one of my campers demonstrated this wonderfully) and the whole thing concluded with me announcing ‘ah, but my greatest strength is that I am accepting of all nations, even on days when they celebrate my defeat’, before ripping open my top to reveal a vest top decorated in a star spangled banner declaring ‘AMERICA IS GREAT!’
Bloody hell, I haven’t even got to the shameful part yet and I’m already cringing at my incredible lack of self-preservation. However, it wasn’t until we’d rolled the girls back to the cabins, got on their pjs and unsuccessfully went in search of fireworks that it all kicked off.
I climbed back into my cabin to find three girls in hysterics on their beds. I see them, am immediately terrified but then remember that I’ve been told about this, it’s July 4th and of course they’re missing their families. I sit down next to one of them and tell her ‘it’s going to be alright, you’ve only got 4 more days before you get to see your family again’. However, after 5 minutes of dedicated cooing and sympathy, I unravel that these girls are not in the slightest bit homesick. These girls are crying because they didn’t get to see any fireworks. I look down at them and think ‘you are 11 and 12 years old for gods sake, get over it’ but instead say ‘guys, there’s nothing you can do about it now so I think we should just move on’. But no. They are still yowling. I don’t know what to do. I cast around the room, see my craft bag, tell the girls to get ready for a firework show and switch off the lights.
In the cramped toilet I’m thinking ‘what the hell am I going to do now’, but within seconds I’m taping and tying blue and green ribbon all over me. I stumble out, grab the torch and spend a minute thrashing about like a retarded penguin whilst singing Hall of the Mountain Troll King. I hesitate as I anticipate their response (I could have just seriously lost my street cred. It’s probably one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done) but then they’re whooping and cheering and calling encore and I think ‘yes, I’ve done it! I’ve smited these snivelling banshees!’. For the encore, I do a delightful rendition of Stauss's The Blue Daube before snapping on the lights and herding them into bed but oh no, they don’t want to go to bed any more.
Pumped up from my follying frolics they’re now chasing each other around the room. Christ. I try and calm them down but it’s past the point where they’ll listen to me now. One girl reveals a surgical glove filled with water and starts dropping it on the floor to which I feint shock. They’re all paying attention now so I think, this is my chance, get them to listen whilst you can. The girl drops it again and I gasp again and they all start to giggle. I look up at them with pleading eyes and simper ‘I think it’s time to go to bed now’ and for a second I think its worked but then another girl swoops down, picks up the swollen glove and starts throwing it about the cabin. She then starts shouting about how she’s going to burst it and with that, the first girl starts starts wailing. Huge, glistening tears are rolling down her cheeks and I’m sat there thinking ‘is she kidding?’ and all I know is that I need to shut this kid up. I demand the glove back and once in the sobbing girl’s arms, she shuts up and starts giggling. Good god! She’s a bloody schitzo! I know now it’s time to call this night to a close so I get up, tell them to get to bed and as I turn my back I hear feet hit the floor and feel a cold rush of water spread over my t-shirt. She’s hit me. That little minion has thrown the glove at me and it’s rapidly dripping down my back. I’m in so much shock that all I can do is start to giggle as the shocked faces of the girls turn into howling grins riddled with menacing exchanges. Oh god, what have I started now.
In seconds, a girl has ran to the bathroom and the next thing I know she’s dousing the first girl in a cup of water- this is getting out of hand. I’m shouting now and as I go to grab the cup of water, hysterical fit girl dashes in front of me and BAM. She’s slipped over and she’s on the floor. Oh my god, oh my god, she’s dead, she’s dead. Hang on. She’s moving. She’s laughing. Everyone’s laughing bar me in fact. They’re clinging to each other as the girl scrabbles about on the floor, writhing in the mess. I’m just stood there absolutely horrified at everything that’s happening. I demand that everyone stops what they’re doing and for the injured, sardonic child to go outside and wait for me. I check she’s okay, I scold her but in retrospect I am far too light on her. I go back in, mop up the mess, command the girls into their beds and switch off the lights. After another lung popping baying fit, they’re still messing about when Emma returns off her break and I look at her, exasperated. I always thought I could deal with kids, especially those closer to my age but tonight, I have officially had enough.
As I slope off, I feel exhausted and delve into the staff fridge for 26 milkyways (mars bars to you and me) and collapse in an armchair. Sadly (or perhaps gladly), my night is merely a hiccup in the works compared to other counsellors so I just sit there, taking in the stories of demonic children and think ‘oh sweet Friday, hurry up and quell these childish ordeals’. We’re apparently supposed to go through this stage with the kids but I’m very much over this ‘storming’ and ready for the ‘norming’. I’m going to sleep fingers, toes, hair, eyes and ribs crossed tonight that I’ll wake up and everything will be hunky-dory.
So, perhaps a bit of a depressing entry tonight so I shall end on a few of the brilliant things that have kept me going today:
Kids say the funniest things
Ricky: Who can tell me the oldest city in America?
Boy: CHINA!
Girl: How do you spell USA?
Chris: So guys, who did America gain independence from?
Kids: CHELSEAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Whilst a group of kids are talking about burgers
Girl: I talk to trees
Counsellors say the funniest things
When talking about Emma, my co-counsellor, and I
Udi: You guys go together like water and milk.
Karen: So who knows what 4th July is?
Me: It’s the day you celebrate being independent from Britain.
Whilst Sarah and I are showering, Gavin comes in and begins to talk
Gavin: Arh, I’ve just put some hydrocortisone on to help my itchy feet.
Sarah: What, hold on. You’ve got HIV?
Total bug bites to date
26. I look like I’ve got chicken pox.
Friday, 2 July 2010
Thursday 1st July 2010
I am deliciously delirious. Why I thought agreeing to be the editor of a careers section for my friends finance website when I knew I’d be in America for the deadline was a good idea, I’ll never know. (I’ll also never know why I’m writing for a finance website since the only finance I’m concerned with is payday and the 0800 number for Natwest’s overdraft service). However, 11,062 words later, it is done and I am smug with knowing that I am a multi-tasking harridan. Yet, combined with rigorous swing pushing trials and laborious hot glue gunning of broken shoes, I am officially off my face on sleep deprivation. A few minutes ago my fellow counsellor Anthony just told me he couldn’t deal with me as he’d spent all day putting up with kids and on his break he needed some solace. I was close to arguing back until I glimpsed Austin, one of the camp chefs, K.Oed on the couch bearing a tattoo of ‘I ♥ CUPCAKES BADLY’ in bright pink sharpie and thought ‘he’s got a point there’.
I did manage to sensible up enough to get some details about the accommodation in which we’re staying at next weekend which is officially booked meaning I am OFFICIALLY going to New York, New York! At last, I don’t have to feel the need to correct people that I’m not living in a penthouse suite for the summer but in a creaky wooden cabin! Of course, I’m actually staying in a hostel in Brooklyn but that’s a step up, right?
But enough about next weekend, I’ve still got a bloody week left with the kids!! It’s not that I don’t like it anymore; it’s just that BY GUM children are hard work. When I go home I’m going to give the ol’ Don and Jon Dick Team a high five and a 24oz bag of skittles and say ‘Oh beautiful parents, you deserve this hoard of artificial colours and general sweet pestilence, you brave, noble folk you’. My latest method in getting my campers attention is to break down on the floor crying whilst wailing ‘why don’t you looooveee me anymoooooreeeee?’ So far it’s proving quite effective but then I’m getting smothered by 8 girls and thinking ‘MAYDAY! MAYDAY! I’VE GOT AN ABUDANE OF SWEATY CHILDREN TRYING TO CONSOLE ME!’
The hardest thing is when they don’t listen. Combined with their incredible ability to find a reason to go to the nurse for anything (‘I’ve got a headache’/‘My stomach hurts’/‘I’ve got a leaf stuck in my nostril’), I find it hard to not roll my eyes and tell them to stop being lame and ‘man up’. Desperate for a break, I found myself taking a girl to the infirmary late the other night for headache tablets to only find out that she was pining for Tylenol at breakfast, lunch and dinner the next day too. I’m not sure if the new scheme for socialised healthcare includes painkiller addiction but if so, I’m signing this girl up pronto.
However, I shall not dwell on the negatives. One absolutely wonderful thing about being in America and looking after kids are the names. Ohhhh the names. I could do a terrific parody of Mambo No. 5 with the array of exotic names we’ve got here: (Tamazzia, Ashanti, Shatoya) but my absolute favourite is a boy named Angel. Now this may not seem that incredibly diverse at first, but wait until you hear this: Angel’s brother is called Damien. Bloody hell.
Another precious moment was the dance on the basketball courts last night. Considering we’ve been warned to have no relationships with our fellow counsellors and to keep our eyes on the older boys and girls, they could not have picked a more inappropriate bunch of songs. It’s funny how you glaze over lyrics but when a 9 year old girl is belting out the words ‘I’m gonna get you crunk, crunk. Boys gonna touch my junk, junk’ that you think ‘ah, so this isn’t a song about a barn dance and cheese and pineapple on sticks’. However, this isn’t the worst of it- we haven’t even got to the dance moves yet. Some of them were good, some of them were really good (a ten year old boy and girl were having a dance battle in the middle of the playground which was quite frankly youtube quality), but some of them were just absolutely eye-poppingly terrifying. I felt like yelping and covering up my own eyes, never mind my 12 year old campers. If I had thrown out moves like that I would definitely and absolutely be fired within seconds. Geeze.
Before I slump off into a mad pit of rampant idiocy, I’ll update you on the latest details:
Kids say the funniest things
Whilst trying to tell off a girl for hitting her sister with her flip flops, the sister replies: ‘I love getting hit by flip flops’. Thanks kid.
Counsellors say the funniest things
Whilst discussing our most prized possessions, Sandro confesses ‘my most prized possession is my Mom because she’s the one that popped me out’.
Head. Image. Mind cringe.
British words and phrases that Americans find funny
Dodgy, minging, grim, bin, skip and torch.
I also found out today that if you call a particularly mucky girl a ‘skank’, it does not mean she’s dirty, it means she’s a prostitute.
American words and phrases that I’ve found hilarious
‘You’re right, it is quite frigid out this morning’
‘In Britain you wear fanny packs all the time, don’t you?’ I should bloody hope not.
Total bug bites to date
21
Bish bash bosh.
I did manage to sensible up enough to get some details about the accommodation in which we’re staying at next weekend which is officially booked meaning I am OFFICIALLY going to New York, New York! At last, I don’t have to feel the need to correct people that I’m not living in a penthouse suite for the summer but in a creaky wooden cabin! Of course, I’m actually staying in a hostel in Brooklyn but that’s a step up, right?
But enough about next weekend, I’ve still got a bloody week left with the kids!! It’s not that I don’t like it anymore; it’s just that BY GUM children are hard work. When I go home I’m going to give the ol’ Don and Jon Dick Team a high five and a 24oz bag of skittles and say ‘Oh beautiful parents, you deserve this hoard of artificial colours and general sweet pestilence, you brave, noble folk you’. My latest method in getting my campers attention is to break down on the floor crying whilst wailing ‘why don’t you looooveee me anymoooooreeeee?’ So far it’s proving quite effective but then I’m getting smothered by 8 girls and thinking ‘MAYDAY! MAYDAY! I’VE GOT AN ABUDANE OF SWEATY CHILDREN TRYING TO CONSOLE ME!’
The hardest thing is when they don’t listen. Combined with their incredible ability to find a reason to go to the nurse for anything (‘I’ve got a headache’/‘My stomach hurts’/‘I’ve got a leaf stuck in my nostril’), I find it hard to not roll my eyes and tell them to stop being lame and ‘man up’. Desperate for a break, I found myself taking a girl to the infirmary late the other night for headache tablets to only find out that she was pining for Tylenol at breakfast, lunch and dinner the next day too. I’m not sure if the new scheme for socialised healthcare includes painkiller addiction but if so, I’m signing this girl up pronto.
However, I shall not dwell on the negatives. One absolutely wonderful thing about being in America and looking after kids are the names. Ohhhh the names. I could do a terrific parody of Mambo No. 5 with the array of exotic names we’ve got here: (Tamazzia, Ashanti, Shatoya) but my absolute favourite is a boy named Angel. Now this may not seem that incredibly diverse at first, but wait until you hear this: Angel’s brother is called Damien. Bloody hell.
Another precious moment was the dance on the basketball courts last night. Considering we’ve been warned to have no relationships with our fellow counsellors and to keep our eyes on the older boys and girls, they could not have picked a more inappropriate bunch of songs. It’s funny how you glaze over lyrics but when a 9 year old girl is belting out the words ‘I’m gonna get you crunk, crunk. Boys gonna touch my junk, junk’ that you think ‘ah, so this isn’t a song about a barn dance and cheese and pineapple on sticks’. However, this isn’t the worst of it- we haven’t even got to the dance moves yet. Some of them were good, some of them were really good (a ten year old boy and girl were having a dance battle in the middle of the playground which was quite frankly youtube quality), but some of them were just absolutely eye-poppingly terrifying. I felt like yelping and covering up my own eyes, never mind my 12 year old campers. If I had thrown out moves like that I would definitely and absolutely be fired within seconds. Geeze.
Before I slump off into a mad pit of rampant idiocy, I’ll update you on the latest details:
Kids say the funniest things
Whilst trying to tell off a girl for hitting her sister with her flip flops, the sister replies: ‘I love getting hit by flip flops’. Thanks kid.
Counsellors say the funniest things
Whilst discussing our most prized possessions, Sandro confesses ‘my most prized possession is my Mom because she’s the one that popped me out’.
Head. Image. Mind cringe.
British words and phrases that Americans find funny
Dodgy, minging, grim, bin, skip and torch.
I also found out today that if you call a particularly mucky girl a ‘skank’, it does not mean she’s dirty, it means she’s a prostitute.
American words and phrases that I’ve found hilarious
‘You’re right, it is quite frigid out this morning’
‘In Britain you wear fanny packs all the time, don’t you?’ I should bloody hope not.
Total bug bites to date
21
Bish bash bosh.
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